SON OF THE CHIEF

Son of Chief Warûingî,
your father is the Lion!
From the mountain of Njahî to the Hills with Mbirûirû
and from the mountain with ostriches to the Aberdare Ranges;
your Father is king.

I won’t hide this anymore,
for the abominable is frothing inside me.
But I will brave the ways of our ancestors
and tell you, o betrothed prince,
my story of love for you.

Wainaina,
if I string you the beads of love,
will you wear them before your father?
Will you let them rattle,
pakacha pakacha pakacha!
Before the eyes of your promised wife;
the princess of Chief Waita?

If you make me your wife,
I shall ponder over and over,
to your call of my name
In thy voice; like circumcision drums.
I shall cherish to watch
your pronounced Adam’s apple vibrate back and forth;
” Waiyego , my wife, daughter of Warûî… “

In the night, you shall crawl onto my cradle.
I shall lie on your chest like a plate;
wider than the Plains of Lotikipi,
grain haired like thickets of the Nyika Plains.
Then, I shall lift off my breast skin
to please your eyes like stars
with the milk gourds of our children.
The skin on my bottom
Shall disentangle from my waist
to give you a first son;
the heir of your dynasty.

Your dense of African built bone
and colossal dancing muscles,
shall henceforth be mine to caress.
The village girls shall call me blessed,
if only you agree to wear my beads of love.